


raise a glass to freedom (something they can never take away)

by sgt_homosexual



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betrayal, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Temporary Character Death, based off of sad-ist's dream smp war animatic, dream smp war spoilers, they respawn it's minecraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25866601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgt_homosexual/pseuds/sgt_homosexual
Summary: “we would rather die than give in to you and join your smp.”the masked man before him, armed to the teeth, glowers at his declaration. a permanent smile is etched onto his face. wilbur used to find it comical, but now? he only feels the cold spikes of dread poking into his gut at the menacing look.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 253





	raise a glass to freedom (something they can never take away)

“independence, or death.”

a gentle breeze sweeps across a courtyard. the dew from the last night’s rain shimmered across blades of grass as they danced with the wind.

“if we get no revolution, then we want nothing.”

the distant bleats of sheep can be heard, muffled by glistening blackstone walls. glass stained the color of the earth turns the sunlight into a green, shining in the peripheries of everyone in the vicinity.

“we would rather die than give in to you and join your smp.”

seven men stand before one another, divided by their ideals. divided by tyranny and the pursuit of independence.

wilbur almost couldn’t believe it had come to this.

the masked man before him, armed to the teeth, glowers at his declaration. a permanent smile is etched onto his face. wilbur used to find it comical, but now? he only feels the cold spikes of dread poking into his gut at the menacing look.

they had given up everything for their independence. their valuables, their homes, even the men he had thought were his friends.

as he looks at dream, sapnap, and george before the tnt, he knows this is a battle they are not prepared to fight.

and as the flint and steel cracks and the ground beneath him falls apart, sending him flying into the lake as he witnesses the van be blown to smithereens, he knows they have no choice anymore.

-

“look, george. everything the light touches is our kingdom.”

a tan hand gestures to the valley from atop a hill, the oranges and reds of a sunset that george cannot see setting the land ablaze as a final goodnight kiss to the earth.

l’manberg’s dark walls are bathed with what george is pretty sure is a yellow light, and as he turns to his best friend on his right, he sees the freckles upon his face are the same color. beside him, sapnap’s supposedly green eyes are also a yellow. they’re both watching the sunset as well.

“a king’s time as a ruler rises and falls like the sun.” dream continues, though as he speaks, he turns to smile earnestly at george. “one day, george, the sun will set, and my time here will rise with you, as the new king.”

they turn their eyes back to the sunset and l’manberg.

he can’t wait to tear it down with his friends by his side.

-

“do i shoot him, will, or do i aim for the sky?”

the orange-brown wooden path beneath his boots suddenly makes him very nauseous.

why couldn’t he ever seem to keep his bloody mouth shut? he should’ve taken wilbur’s advice. talk less, smile more.

wilbur’s attempt at a comforting smile cracks at tommy’s uneasiness, falling somber and grave. tommy notices he suddenly looks 10 years older, the dark bags under his eyes telling stories of sleepless nights spent planning.

he lets out a sigh, his posture sagging under the weight of tommy’s mistakes. the hand he places on tommy’s shoulder is like an anchor, forcing him to realize just how deep he has dug his own grave. “tommy, i want you to do whatever your heart says you should do.”

as the blond tightens his grip on the blood-smeared bow in his hands, he realizes for the first time how heavy it really is. an ever-present reminder that this is reality.

he has to do it. for l’manberg. he’s their last hope.

but he’s only 16, and as wilbur counts down and he turns to dream with his bow pulled back, he has never been more scared.

-

blood is streaming from the cut beneath his eye. he’s hyperaware of every injury on his body, every little bruise and every pulled muscle and fracture. his likely broken arm screams from tubbo’s desperate grip on it.

the pain is nothing compared to the betrayal boiling within him. if it weren’t for tubbo, eret would be a dead man.

“you bastard, eret! you- we _trusted_ you!”

laughter rings in his ears.

tommy wishes tubbo would let him go.

-

he fights against the black spots in the corners of his eyes, unable to close them despite the burn of the lake’s water. staring in shock at the blurred and distorted remains of the van from beneath the surface.

he knew this is it, they had already lost. they’ll never win. it’s over.

tommy swims back up anyway.

-

“one.”

tubbo and fundy shift from foot to foot. tubbo is biting his nails.

“two.”

george, sapnap, and punz stare intently at the two men upon the wooden path. they don’t blink.

“three.”

tommy doesn’t look away from the smile on the blond before him’s mask. he swears he can almost see the hazel eyes leering at him from behind the porcelain.

“four.”

wilbur’s arm is raised as he counts. he refuses to look anyone in the eye.

(“dream, i know what you have to do.”)

“five.”

his leather boots stomp on the planks.

“six.”

the skin on his back burns from the stares of both his comrades and enemies.

“seven.”

a rock is kicked from meters away as dream takes another step.

“eight.”

he can almost hear the smirk he knows is stretched across dream’s face.

“nine.”

a bead of sweat rolls down his temple.

“ten paces, fire.”

wilbur’s hand finally falls forward, and the two blonds turn to face each other, bows drawn.

no air escapes his lungs as tommy lets go of the bow string, holding his breath while sending an arrow flying as dream does the same.

he sees wilbur’s eyes widen. he hears fundy shout. he knows tubbo is crying.

tommy misses.

dream doesn’t.

-

“dream, you know- awh, yeah, you know what?-” 

“tommy.” wilbur hesitantly reaches towards him. 

“why don’t we fight right now?!” jabbing a shaking finger at the calm, masked man before him, tommy snarls. he’s never felt so _passionate_.

“ _tommy_.” hand meets shoulder, trying to pull him back.

“why don’t we fight right no-” it’s no use, tommy can’t hear him, can’t feel him, can’t see anything except the green of dream’s hoodie and the white of his own rage. there’s no stopping him, he’s going to tear him apart, he’s going to—

“ _tommy!_ calm.” forcefully, the blond is spun around, and blue eyes widen as they meet steely brown ones.

he’s never seen wilbur so angry.

his eyebrows are furrowed intensely, and the stare that meets him bores into his soul, immediately turning all of the fury from moments ago into an icy fear and shame.

tommy knows he’s disappointed in him. a deep sadness fills his heart as he can’t find it in himself to look away.

it’s too late now, anyway.

-

dream turns around to face george and sapnap. the shadows on his face are dark, and george feels sapnap tense up beside him at the dangerous aura surrounding his friend.

he shakes his head at the brunet. l’manberg had refused to surrender.

george steps forward and flicks the match towards the bomb with a grin he knows must look terrifyingly evil, even by his standards. the rebels do not flinch, mocking the dream team as they step backwards.

“go, go! get out, get out, get out!”

barely hearing his friend’s shouts from over the deafening boom of hundreds of tnt exploding, they run a safe distance from the entrance.

sapnap’s got a grin on his face that george knows matches his own.

he lets out whoops and cheers at the destruction and screams from within the fort, bright yellows of fire and grays of smoke rising from within.

george grips the handle of his netherite sword with a bruising strength.

sapnap cocks his enchanted bow with a fire in his eyes.

dream readjusts his mask, revealing a sinister smile that is all teeth.

they charged into l’manberg, excitement rolling off of them like waves. even if they had already won, they knew this would be fun.

after all, they had the upper hand.

-

the soft footsteps of black leather hitting blackstone echoed throughout l’manberg.

it was a strange sight to see, the blue coat of the rebel contrasting with the casual hoodies and t-shirts of dream smp’s warriors.

with a madman’s grin that matched his new allies, though, eret had never looked more at home.

“eret, how could you..?” wilbur’s voice was even, but tommy knew he was anything but calm right now. 

there was blood caking everyone’s clothing, burns from fire and explosions turning their formerly blue uniforms to an ugly red and black. it was a sad sight, and it would probably make a good metaphor if tommy cared enough to think of one.

tubbo’s eyes were puffy, and his bruised face was wet with tears. “eret, i thought we were friends- ow!”

“eret, listen to me,” the blond boy began, pushing tubbo to the side in his hurry to face the traitor. “and i mean this in the nicest way possible.”

the white-eyed man stared down at tommy as he closed his eyes and raised his hands.

when he opened them again, he saw eret flinch at the wild glint in his pupils. no one made a sound.

“you fucked up.”

-

there were explosions from the walls, and the members of dream smp armed with shimmering enchanted weapons and armor leapt out of them with bloodthirst painting their faces.

wilbur stood in front of tommy, shield and sword in defensive positions. tubbo and the aforementioned boy had their blades at the ready, and their fox friend’s bow was drawn back. they were prepared to fight.

what they hadn’t expected was sapnap ender pearling behind tommy, and he found himself letting out a scream for the first time when he heard the pearl shatter from behind him.

he whipped around frantically and saw tubbo parrying sapnap’s attack, grunting with the effort of forcing the older man’s blade back.

tommy let himself smile, momentarily forgetting the enemies in front of him.

when he turned back around, an arrow had already been fired at his forehead.

dream waved from behind his crossbow. tommy didn’t wave back.

(“we.. are at war.”)

-

a cheer of “yes!” erupts from the george’s mouth. he, punz, and sapnap punched the air, giddy and high off of adrenaline and bloodshed.

-

it was hot.

really hot, in fact.

the torch in sapnap’s hand burned as brightly as the fire dancing from tree to tree.

tubbo’s house was no more. he likes it more this way, he thinks to himself, letting out a maniacal laugh at the beautiful damage he’s caused.

sapnap turns back around, grinning at dream.

the man in question nodded approvingly.

(“we have _no mercy!_ ” dream shouts, blood and spit flying from his mouth. “we have _no mercy_ for you!”)

-

the final control room was one that eret had spent ages planning. he had known right from the start that l’manberg never stood a chance, and when dream had offered him a place as king of dream smp in return for his betrayal, eret hadn’t thought twice about it.

his “comrades” stared inquisitively at the brunet as they checked their assigned chests, and he saw wilbur’s eyes widen in realization when he noticed his own was empty

eret couldn’t help himself from smiling as he slapped the wooden button and unleashed pandora’s box. how gullible.

“it was never meant to be.”

-

“wait!” “oh my god!”

the citizens of l’manberg cried out in shock as the earth beneath them flew apart, revealing hundreds and hundreds of tnt.

wilbur desperately kicked back to the surface after he was sent flying into the lake, seeing his son, fundy, doing the same. they stared in mute shock at the remains of the van, the only sounds from them being their harsh pants and gasps for air.

he could hear tubbo screaming from somewhere else. he heard nothing from tommy.

the men of dream smp had planted tnt beneath their base. it was a dirty, _dirty_ trick, but certainly effective.

they had lost the van.

l’manberg was in trouble, now.

-

five men calmly stared at the other team, arrows poised and blades sharpened as they surrounded the others. there wasn’t a single scratch on them.

four men shakily stood their ground, desperately searching for a way out of the situation they were in. one of them was nearly incapacitated, barely conscious.

they were outgunned, outmanned, outnumbered, and outplanned.

-

“any.. any last words?”

tommy’s voice was raspy, shaking with poorly-concealed fear. he was sweating bullets, and from within the obsidian confines of their last-resort room, his pants of exhaustion were clear for all the other men to hear.

tubbo looked down.

if even tommy knew they were done for, it was over.

-

wilbur placed his head in his hands, refusing to meet the eyes of his comrades.

“we’ve lost so much…”

fundy looked heartbroken, reaching out towards his father. tommy couldn’t tell if the fox was trying to comfort the brunet or seek comfort for himself.

he knew there was nothing left for them to do. their only choice was to surrender. it was over for l’manberg.

tommy closed his eyes.

-

tommy opened his eyes. 

he was standing before dream, their hands clasped together in a firm handshake.

a potion was tossed into the air, and fell down with a crash.

(“we want to see white flags!”)

-

the blond smiled.

his coat was torn and scorched beyond repair, and his face was smeared with blood and purple bruises. 

l’manberg was in pieces. the van was gone, and they had lost one of their most trusted allies. they had lost all their valuables and preparations.

the flag of l’manberg danced with the gentle breeze of the wind.

remains of tnt were scattered across the territory.

nihachu and thunder grinned, dressed in uniforms far cleaner than tommy’s will ever be again.

the memory of schlatt tickled his mind, the goat man donning a business suit and a charismatic smile, looking over his shoulder.

(“we want to see _white flags_ outside your base by tomorrow, at dawn, or you are _dead!_ ” the blond roared, his mask cracked and fractured on the side of his face. blood dribbled down dream’s face in a steady stream.)

they had done it.

l’manberg had, against all odds, won its freedom.

**Author's Note:**

> go watch SAD-ist's dream smp war animatic on youtube it's kinda pog


End file.
